Stolen Flames
by xoxfiresignx
Summary: ON HIATUS He made the flames, and she stole them. She fell in love, and he burned her. They were meant to torture each other. They were meant for hatred. Ryro PostX3
1. The Beginning

**Stolen Flames**

**Chapter One: The Beginning**

_Christmas Eve - Fourteen Years Ago_

"There." A woman smiled down at her son as she lit the final candle in their advent wreath. "Doesn't that look pretty?"

The boy nodded, gazing at the flames in awe. He was about 3 years old, and his bright blue eyes shone with interest as he reached out. His mother took his hand gently when his fingers were mere centimeters away from the fire.

"No, John," she said, leading him carefully into the kitchen. "You can't touch the fire. It's very hot and it will hurt you."

He gazed up at her in confusion. He hadn't felt any heat. What did she mean?

"Do you know why we light five candles on Christmas night?" The woman asked, sitting John down at the table and bringing a plate of cookies over to him. He grabbed one excitedly and crammed it into his mouth, shaking his head at his mother's question. She sat down across from him and took a cookie of her own. "The four tall, white candles stand for love, joy, peace, and hope. Those are all things that Jesus tried to teach us while he was here on Earth. And the fat, short candle in the middle represents Jesus himself, and the Holy Ghost."

John swallowed a chunk of cookie. "But why are they in a weath?" She smiled at her son's lisp.

"To represent the eternal love that God has for us. Wreaths are made in circles to symbolize that God will always, always love us. Because circles don't really have a beginning or an end, do they?"

John shook his head, chewing on another cookie. His mother looked at the clock mounted on the wall. "Nine o'clock!" she said, laughing at John's suddenly stricken face. "It's time for you to go to bed. You want Santa to come, don't you?"

"Yuh-huh but.. One more?" He pointed at the cookie plate, pouting slightly. She laughed again and nodded.

"All right. One more. But only one, you hear, John Allerdyce?"

He nodded happily and took one more cookie, munching it with gusto. She grinned at him.

"I love you sprout. You know that, right?"

He smiled and nodded more vigourously. "I wove you too, momma." He said.

She shepherded him upstairs, turning out the lights as she went. As she tucked him into bed, she could have sworn she heard a crash from down in the living room. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and crept silently down the stairs. She glanced over the living room quickly. The Santa presents were under the tree, the Christmas lights were turned on. Everything was as calm and wonderfully magical as she wanted it to be for her son's fourth Christmas. She tiptoed back upstairs, glanced into John's room to make sure he was safely asleep, then went into her own bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her.

- -

He smelled smoke. His eyes watered as he sat up in bed, his head spinning from the strange smell. He heard a crackling noise, saw red light, and heard a scream of pure terror from somewhere outside.

"Oh my god!" A high-pitched, feminine voice called out. "Their house is on fire!"

He ran halfway down the stairs, and saw the flames. They were licking the walls, almost caressing them, leaving black, charred marks in their wake. He ran back upstairs, into his mother's room. He screamed.

"_Momma!_"

She was lying there on her bed, her face black, her eyes wide and staring. He screamed again and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her, tears running down her face. The fire was all around them.

The bed burst into flame. His mother's nightgown followed suit. He beat at it with his hands but they did nothing. Suddenly, her entire body was engulfed by fire. She opened her eyes.

"_John_."

He ran. His clothes were covered with the leaping, roaring flames. He felt them burn off him, but felt no heat. He was holding fire in his hands, but he felt nothing.

He raced into the yard, landing, naked, in the snow. His body was robed in flame. His neighbours, a middle-aged woman and her husband, rushed forward to help him but he scrambled away from them.

"Momma!" He shrieked, throwing himself into the white covering at his feet. The fire melted the snow, and then died in the puddle of water as he sat there, sobbing, whispering the word 'Momma' over and over again.

- -

**A/N - That's the fist chapter. I hope you like it. **


	2. Pyro's Tale

**A/N - So this is pretty much a quick lowdown of the three movies. Next chapter I'll talk a bit about Rogue, then the real story will start. Though this is credited as Ryro, it also goes a bit Rogan at the beginning. **

**Big, huge thanks to PsYcHoThErApY17 for the awesome review.**

- -

**Stolen Flames**

**Chapter Two: Pyro's Tale**

_Present Day_

He had nowhere to go. His only father-figure had disappeared on him, he'd left the only place he'd ever felt safe, and he had no family. His mother had been a single mother who was the only daughter of a single mother. Both him mother and his grandmother had died when he'd been a child — his mother of smoke inhalation, his grandmother of shock and grief at the news.

He'd been sent to a foster home, but he was never able to get settled in. There were always reporters, scientists, and psychologists, coming to visit the miracle boy who had survived being set on fire with no injuries of any kind. He was constantly being pestered by the press, up until the point that he needed an armed escort just to make it to school. Everyone wanted to know how he'd done it — how he'd managed to get through the flames undamaged while his mother died before he'd even woken up.

It didn't take anyone very long to realize the truth — that no _normal_ human could have lived through what he'd lived through. After that discovery was made, his six-year-old face was all over the news and papers, his name on the radio, and his foster parents thought it best to send him away from his Missouri hometown, to a place in northern New York where he'd be safe from persecution... and where other people would be safe from him.

The place was a school. The school was called Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. When John first arrived there he'd been scared out of his wits. But then a very kind lady name Jean had taken him under her wing and explained to him the workings of the school.

Every student and teacher had some sort of special ability, the way John was unharmed by and could control fire. Jean herself could read people's thoughts, and move things just by thinking about it. John soon met a girl named Kitty, who could walk through walls, and a boy named Peter, who could change his body from flesh to metal in an instant.

When he was fourteen, a new boy came to the school, now dubbed 'Mutant High.' This boy was Bobby, and he could create ice through his fingertips. Polar opposites, Bobby and John quickly became close friends, and along with Peter, they created a group of friends that were dedicated to perfecting their powers. They even gave themselves nicknames, the way the teachers did — Ms. Monroe, who could control the weather, was called Storm, and Mr. Summers, who shot laser beams out of his eyes, went by the name Cyclops. Peter became Colossus, Bobby became Iceman, and John became Pyro.

The three of them became what was known as the 'mini X-Men' around school. They wanted to become like the teachers, who not only taught, but got dressed in shiny black leather suits and fought for mutant and human rights alike.

It was when John first heard of Magneto, when he was 15, that he felt himself changing. He wanted to get out and do something, something more than what the X-Men were doing. They fought when they had to, and most of the time they were saving humans from rogue mutants. John wanted to stop the oppression and persecution that all mutants had to face at the hands of the humans. He wanted to do something drastic. He wanted to take a stand.

Magneto, the mutant persona of Eric Lensherr, was taking a stand. He was fighting underground, trying to show the humans that mutants were equal to or even superior to themselves. John felt a powerful tug toward the darker side of mutant nature. His mother had always said he was meant for great things.

But then there was Marie.

He'd been sixteen when he first saw her. She'd come to the school along with a man named Logan, one stormy winter night. Logan's powers had been evident as soon as he'd been carried in. The claws protruding from his knuckles and his skin healing itself was ample evidence that he was one of them. Marie's power, however, didn't expose itself until one night when she'd gone to check up on Logan (also called Wolverine), and he'd stabbed her through the chest.

John had heard the man screaming for help and ran, along with Bobby and Peter, to see what was wrong. He'd arrived in time to see Wolverine's claws retracting out of her back and into his hand. John had known she was dead then. Those claws were made from adamantium, the strongest, sharpest metal known to exist.

But Marie hadn't died. She'd reached out with her bare hand and touched Wolverine's forehead. As the students and teachers gathered at the door watched in astonishment, her wounds had healed themselves, the way Logan's usually did. He had collapsed, and she had run from the room, calling out how much she was sorry.

John hadn't thought that she'd needed to apologize. Wolverine had effectively killed her. She'd needed to heal herself. And her powers had allowed her to do it.

After that incident, however, no one had wanted to touch her. She stole the power of other mutants. She'd nearly killed Logan. Rumours and fearful mutters ran rampant about her. Only John, Bobby, and Peter had defended her. But by the next day, she had run away.

And then Magneto had kidnaped her, and used her to set off a machine that would have, in theory, turned every human being into a mutant. The machine took so much energy that some of her life force was drained away. Two sections of her hair had turned white. And then she'd died.

It was only Logan's obsession with keeping her safe that had saved her. John knew it. Everyone knew it. Logan had grabbed her face with both hands, touched her skin, and waited for the life to drain out of him and into her.

Unlike most mutants, Marie's power could not be controlled. John could hold onto fire, but he couldn't create it himself. Wolverine could take his claws out when he needed them but then put them away. Bobby could create ice whenever he wanted, but it wasn't constant. Marie's draining ability _was_ constant. She couldn't decide when she wanted to use it: it was always working. If she touched anyone with her bare skin, their energy and powers would be sucked into her. Her powers ran rampant, without following any sort of rules or directions. She became known as Rogue. She had no way of preventing it other than avoiding contact altogether.

This posed a problem when she and Bobby started dating. A problem which was soon to be remedied.

The FDA had come up with a drug that could suppress the mutant gene permanently. They were offering this 'cure' to any mutant who wanted it. By this time, John had joined up with Magneto's crew, despite everything. They had created an army — an army of dangerous and pissed-off mutants who wanted nothing to do with the government's attempt to exterminate them.

John knew that Rogue would want the cure. She'd gone so long without real human contact that he expected nothing less of her. And though he'd called her weak and insulted her, he'd really felt no anger towards her. To be able to touch when you've never really touched before would have been a blessing to her.

But then, Magneto had been cured. Everyone else in the army had either been cured or slaughtered.

And he had nowhere to go.

- -

**A/N - I'm hoping that made sense. It wasn't the greatest chapter in the world.**


	3. AUTHOR'S NOTE

This story is temporarily on **HIATUS** due to the fact that I have absolutely no ideas in my head anymore. Sorry :(

If any of you come up with something you think I should do, PM me. If I like the idea, I'll write it. If I like the idea and have writer's block, I'll still do my best.

Thank you all so much for being so supportive to these two chapters! I'm hoping to get my inspiration back soon. I'll watch all three movies over the weekend, that might help :)

Lots of love,

Lucy


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